#also its so weird like he cares more than my family about this lmfao like literally my parents dont care and my brother says he does but

[writterings]

i told my boss im in an intensive outpatient program because it affects my work hours and literally he bought me cookies, made me tea today, and sat me down SEVERAL times to tell me that if i need a little taken off my plate then i can just tell him and its literally so sweet i love this man but at the same time im just like huh. is this how an employer is supposed to act? ive nearly gotten fired in the past for my mental health issues so this is wild

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

───────────────

YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

───────────────

when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[mazzystar24]

hi its birthmark anon! weird lore from me i guess i dont mean to trauma dump because my dad is fine lmfao but i HATED that scene because of the “your dad is still alive” line. my dad had heart issues when i was a kid to the point he needed open heart surgery and i remember so clearly my aunt saying something similar to my mom in front of us when he was hospitalized. my mom said she couldnt make thanksgiving dinner because my dad was in the hospital and she had to take care of me and my 3 siblings who were all pretty young kids (i was 11 i think and my younger brother was 9. i remember thinking my dad was gonna die) and my aunt was like “at least you have a family”. we didnt see her for like 5 years after that lmfao

also the “you guys need your own hospital wing” line also frustrated me because i had my own health problems as a kid (im alright now) and people ALWAYS made those sorts of comments to me. i didnt even register the daddy shit until later and that only made the scene worse because while it felt like buck was trying to lighten the mood and make it something they have in common but tommy dismissed it AGAIN. like its not even about sexual jokes to me its about him being an asshole in every scene he’s in 😭

anyway thanks for the birthmark clownery i doubt kim will return but we had fun 🫶 this whole discourse is dumb because the scene just sucked. if they wanted me to believe tommy gave a single fuck they shouldve had him come to the hospital abd they should also address the role he played in the gerrard shit for hen and chimney because they HAVENT and it drives me NUTS

anyway love you bye

Hi birthmark anon!!

Dw Im always down for a good trauma dump like one of my friends and I legit never spoke to eachother before despite being in the same class for a year but only became friends because a cancelled class led to us trauma dumping to eachother for our first proper conversation for like 2 hrs

Omg can’t believe your aunt said that that’s actually so iffy, but yess exactly the “your dad is still alive” line was just so so bad and I hated it sm like idk if you saw my replies on my other post or not cos I put it in much more in depth way there but like I too am a traumatised girlie and if someone said that shit about my bio dad I would literally lose it cos it’s one of those things that get said so much to traumatised people and it’s honestly a big no from me

Like sure SOME traumatised people MAY regret not fixing it but also it might not be fixable and you don’t know the situation and also maybe they won’t either way that’s their prerogative

and sometimes what’s right for them at the time isn’t what’s right for them long term and all these things are fine

Like me personally if my dad dropped dead right now I would genuinely celebrate and feel not a single ounce of regret and that’s fine and id deck anyone who said it’s not

Like if Tommy has his own trauma and feelings about his dad and their relationship then that’s fine but this sort of imposed rhetoric on another traumatised person is just a no from me

The hospital wing line is another thing that I didn’t see mentioned but bucks face DID flip but that’s a whole other debate yeah

See that’s the thing like I know I have Tommy loving followers but I personally dislike him cos they haven’t gave him (imo) substance or like enough other than sardonic comments and shit

Rip our fun with the Kim and buck parallels you’ll always be famous🫡

But yeah like even if people liked Tommy and bucktommy I feel like they can blame the writing or execution or context but like overall not liking that scene it’s not just about hating Tommy or bucktommy imo

YES THEY COULDVE PLAYED IT SO DIFFERENTLY IF THEY WANTED TO DEVELOP TOMMY AND BUCKTOMMY AND IT DEEPLY CONFUSES ME WHY THEY HAVENT IF THEYRE CARRYING IT INTO S8

Anyways also love ya byee🫶🫶🫶🫶

[toxycodone]

exhausted wolf anon here 🐺🪚 i decided on giant whip spider for the creature my sona is, since they live in caves and it would make more sense to find him in the dungeon.

His mom is a half-foot named Danlok! She was obsessed with magic (haven't read the manga yet but she's into forbidden magic, forgot the name- I'm writing this down for the first time in this ask lol I'll do some research after) andddd got chased out of her half-foot village when they found out what she was doing!! Her husband (Ferfil ig? Fer is his first name 1000%, idk what the last name or family name is yet, just spit balling rn) helped her move into a secluded area, where they had their first kiddo! His full name is Sigvik Ferz, he grew up to be about 4 years old? Before contracting a fatal illness that they couldn't find a way to cure, despite his mother's magical prowess. He passed away after 7 months of his parents trying to stabilize him. So, she left his body exactly where it was, and worked tirelessly to keep his soul contained so she could bring him back to life. She became obsessed with this goal, to an unhealthy degree, submerging herself completely into her work and avoiding anything that would distract her. Her husband was (understandably) concerned, but tried to take care of her the best that he could while she was in this state, making sure she had food and water at least. One thing led to the next, and she managed to bring Sigvik back after she disappeared with his body for a full week. But something was very wrong visually- he was double the height, with a black dusty carapace on his entire body, 6 spiked arms, and two large whip-like appendages protruding from his back. The only recognizable part of him was his face, a slight difference being his eyes were a little bigger, and almost entirely taken up by his pupils, only a sliver of the scleras visible when he looked head on. But, he was back, just a little more reserved and light-sensitive than before. His father was a little off-put at first, but once he realized that this man was in fact his son, his parents both raised him like a normal half-foot child! (holy fuck I'm writing so much I apologize for this lmfao 😿😿)

He aged like normal, until he reached maturity- and seemed to stop completely. Neither of his parents noticed until around 5 years passed? and he had no significant changes in his appearance. Which was, maybe concerning?? His mom didn't know why it was happening. His dad tried to get an answer out of her but she couldn't figure it out even if she wanted to. Still, they took care of him, hoping

A few years after this, Sigvik came home after a little walk at night and his parents were both gone. He looked everywhere for them, in their little hide-out, but found nothing. Everything was in its place, exactly how it was before he left. So, he waited for them to return. Then waited a little more. Then waited even longer. He didn't know how long they would be gone, but they would always come back home before, so he didn't think this would be much different. After the first full day they hadn't returned, he decided he would go looking for them. He got lost in the woods outside of his home, found and promptly chased away by a group of weird tall people (hasnt met anyone other than his parents), getting even more lost. He found his way into a sea-side city at night, explored a boat, got trapped inside of a crate or something of that effect, anddd ended up on the island!! crawled into the dungeon and has been living there since :3

until maybe Laios' or Kabru's party stumbles on him in the deeper levels of the dungeon. He finds half-foots more familiar and approachable than the other races (he would be very scared of Laios when they first meet- large loud man + recluse bug boy with very sensitive ears = instant disaster) and also Kabru and Marcille would be the second scariest people he meets tbh, but Kabru could probably figure out a way to make himself seem non-threatening. I see Sigvik following Kabru's party around if they meet him before Laios' party- or he finds Chilchuck secluded from the rest of the folks and they talk while he's hidden from view since they both are half-foots and have good ears. Then he steps out and scares the fucking life out of Chil because what the fuck is that thing. But then he talks and realizes 'oh this guy is the half-foot I've been talking to for the past 20 minutes in my native tongue. huh.' and yeah ..

Fun facts about Sigvik Ferz!!

His favorite food is sweet-bread, his favorite color is ivory, and his favorite animal is a sheep...

Chilchuck reminds him of his dad so he sticks close to him if he joins Laios' party!

he would be a fucking force to reckon with if he actually tried fighting, but (un)fortunately he has no interest in doing that at all.

Anyway lmk what u think or what I should add to him bc idk what else I could expand on .... What would Venery think of him omg!!!!!

OKAY LIVE!! one. i am jealous of how good you are at naming characters I am. In awe. and that creature is so damn cool????

okay two. DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR TYPING A LOT I LOVE THE BACKSTORY. It's really good! Did his parents get captured for his mom's involvement in dark magic?

I think Laios's party is definitely the best bet for him. In my personal hc I think Kabru finds it difficult to associate with beastmen (like. at least early in the story). Bc although he treats Kuroo POLITELY. He still says not to trust him and stuff (as time goes on he gets better tho as shown in the kobold extra he kinda confronts his own biases a lil)

BUT YEAH. IN THE DUNGEON. he is safest w Laios's group. And I can see chilchuck actually vouching for him, but in Chil's eyes, Sigvik is a victim of black magic and he. may kinda rub that in Marcille's face a bit. Chil would probably want to invite him in the party bc he's like "well we're trying to find a cure for izutsumi anyways" (Personally I think Chil would want to give him money to return to the surface but then hes like wait. this guy cant live on the surface he'll be killed, captured or worse). He sticks up for other half foots lol. BUT YEAH.

VENERY. MAN. ugh. the hyena genes really fuck w him (being a dungeon rabbit mix makes him a tad more docile but. not really. urghie)

He would definitely push Sigvik around. He is probably the most accepting besides Laios since Ven is just. cool like tat. but He's kinda like "this guy CANNOT be this much of a pushover" and then is like. shocked when he is. He'll bully Sigvik and pick on him but like. Does NOT let anything bad happen to him. and he also gets upset on Sigvik's behalf if anyone insults or picks on him (It's Ven's privilege to do that!! not a right!!)

After that Venery is giving him C+C lessons...combat and confidence. Bc he's nervous if Sig doesn't start learning to stick up for himself and fight back then no one will.

[fllagellant]

Round 2 motherfucker me and you and KILL THAT MAN !!! please <3 kisskiss!!

YESSSYES

I love 2 talk about my wips SOSOSO much ..

Round 2 motherfucker but more plot explanation this time .. dandelion’ s canon bad family but with the joys of giving him a bunch of sisters that are Better than the rest .. he gets a summons to attend a gathering in Lettenhove hosted by his father to try and get him to … do his Duties as a Vicount . Duties he would rather die than do . Love a man that uses a title to give himself some sort of air of trust when he is literally a Spy ..

It’ s mostly going to be the Horrors of being a borderline bastard in a family + the joys of being able to take ur friends along and say that they are your ‘ bodyguards ‘ and ‘ court sorceress ‘ . And knowing 90% of your family currently present would like to throttle you but … they cannot ….. lmfao

I promise I will get them out of Novigrad soon I swear just give me 5000 more words

excerpt :

The Chameleon- Once the Rosemary and Thyme, another show of the shedding skin of Novigrad- stood tall, having managed to stay after each one of Geralt’s visits. Unsurprisingly, really. Dandelion had a firm grip when he wanted to, and would only give up The Chameleon if it was pried from his dead hands.

Well, Dandelion’s and his co-owners dead hands. Dandelion would be a nightmare on his own, but Zoltan and Priscilla? No wonder the underworld bosses didn’t bother with trying to retake the ex-brothel-now-cabaret.

Though, he didn’t want to test the strands of Destiny, not as he passed through the gates into Novigrad. Roach distantly whinnied, left in care to the horsemaster just outside the gates of Novigrad, watching Geralt walk out of her sight. To his right, a snort echoed a shared humour at the horse’s known cling to the Witcher. It didn’t worry Geralt, she wasn’t alone, kept company by Scorpion and Widow. She just enjoyed throwing a hissy fit when she could.

Geralt wasn’t going to turn back around to reprimand her for her high-pitched whiny. So she did it once more. She knew when she could misbehave.

—-

KILL THAT MAN !!!! I need Giilvas to have a weird night . Just an all around strange and uncanny night . But he is also allowed to commit massive amounts of violence so he Is winning … also Giilvas + Jaheira bonding in here I forgot to mention that ! Learning the weirdo that is like a stand in son - ish rn for you was once of a Druidic clan and you learn this via brutal murder combat … Hand of Bane vs Werebeast that is biting you and biting you and biting you who WINS ?? ( you already know )

excerpt :

-And sent her off to bed with a ‘love you, soulsister’ and a ruffling of her hair. Karlach laughed, for the first time in that long day. It was rough and dry, but it was a laugh. And she ate supper with Wyll. And she accepted a hug from Jaheira.

Giilvas wouldn’t.

Giilvas shook his head, yet Jaheira did not scoff or tsk or push in her own cattycaring way. She nodded, and went to her tent. With an uttering of a talk that must be had come morning, Cub.

So when exhaustion, rapid and steady, sunk its teeth into the backs of their necks. When it dragged them under. When it finally demanded payment and when everyone finally curled under the waning night sky, Wyll waited to feel Giilvas’ form slip beside him.

But he didn’t.

[emperorcartagia]

oc canon thinking

i love the dynamic i have created for aurellio and refa because i feel like refa is so easily scandalized by everything aurellio does and its more funny than anything. yes ballet is elegant and respected but once he finds out he can dance...........OTHER genres ..... with less clothing on.......... suddenly its like GREAT MAKER THE YOUTHS..... but also he's nasty and likes it. aurellio is allowed to be provocative if it's for his benefit of course.

i also think that aurellio, being younger and being raised to be proud of his family first as centauri are, he thinks the obsession refa has with the throne is weird and useless. his family is well off and fine as they are and while theyre always looking for ways to climb socially as centauri do, its not to the extent of wanting to be fucking emperor. theyre not "close" enough to want that or care about it.

he doesnt really find out how deep it goes until refa starts going Insane about it in season 3 era so pre canon i feel like its more a silent goal and its all falling into place for him to start making money moves when we see him in the show. but when refas like oh someday you can work with the emperor yes yes aurellio you with your talents you deserve better (kinda how he talks to vir in rock cried out but less gross and more genuine) and aurellio just smiles and nods because well the attention is nice. and the fantasy is nice. and the elevation he already got from house refa is nice. the genuine praise !!! is nice !!! as fuck !!! so yknow.

there comes a time where aurelio leaves and goes to babylon 5 (around s2 actually lmfao so fucking here comes refa anyways to visit) and he suspends the patronage with refa and theres a little period where theyre sort of Equals esp when aurellio stops working for him but like. not really bc aurellio isnt from a noble house like refa is so he still has that societal power and age over him so aurellio just kinda organically continues with the Acts Of Service dynamic. it's gross. it's "my lord" even when he isnt his lord anymore. FOULLL

its also worth mentioning how obsessed they are with each other NGL. like.... refa fell in love One Time and it was with celes and then he starts feeling weird about this Dude 20 something years his junior but like it cant happen bc thats weird and aurellio has a wife he cant just also BE refas malewife so hes just gonna keep aurellio around and spoil him and aurellio strokes the ever loving fuck out of refas ego and for some reason refas sweet and doting to him and no one else but his wife and daughter and it makes aurellio Sick in the head and it is a disgustingly erotic feedback loop of aurellio stroking his ego and making him feel important and powerful (and loved...) and therefore aurellio getting doted on and protected and cared about in response. YUCK!

i might talk about this more later and how they interact in the canon timeline when refa visits b5 and runs into aurellio briefly and What Happens With That Lmfao but uh. thats enough of that.

[unlimitedhorsepower]

me writing my fanfic

honestly though i frequently think abt how many details i reference as truth are like actual canon things but theyre more obscure details from peripheral materials rather than in the anime.

but also some details i made up. would love to talk about my reasonings for those details. some of them are esoteric. but some of them are just based on reality to me. i refuse to call yuris mom "origa" bc it was the artist name of that one russian singer whose real name was olga and whos just known in japan for a bunch of anime collabs

its also my truth (but not totally unreasonable imo) that olga immigrated to sternbild and her surname is just "petrov" specifically due to simplifications for required forms/some minor mixups. not even petrova and nothing given wrt patronymic vs surname but i dont think sternbilds legislative system wouldve understood patronymics and its not rly important.

what is interesting to me is that olga petrova was a real person (well. im sure this has been the name of many people. but bear with me), a vaudeville performer, who actually adopted the name as a stage name. ive always felt that olga was running from something and wouldve explained why she has nobody else to care for her than her son. and nobody had ever heard of her either.

olga petrov is a bit of a fake name isnt it...

being a woman with no family nor connections in an unfamiliar city is such a ripe ground for getting an abusive fuck of a husband. i really doubt that mr. legend suddenly became abusive once his NEXT power started failing. i just think olga didnt have anyone else and she was willing to overlook all of his flaws for that long as someone who was rich and famous and kept a roof over her head etc

what choice does she have? also gives more basis to how nobody seems to ever acknowledge olga (or yuri) exist. i feel like mr. legend couldve just presented olga as his girlfriend of the day (who has a son) to maverick and he wouldve been like okay so...whatever...

and they never talked bc olga ~kept out of the way~ when her husband has people over or is on the phone etc. and this dynamic gets worsened when mr. legend starts to lose his powers bc he might not have a NEXT power anymore but what he has is total control and power over olga.

^ruminations of an unwell person who thinks narratives actually care about woman characters. objectively the name was given bc the writers had heard origa once LMFAO and petrov is a common surname

anyway. personally i still think it would be interesting if gregory sunshine was yuris real biological father (insert that theory post i made pre-cour 2) and olga just managed to get into a rlship with mr.legend so quickly she could pass yuri as his son. (or mr. legend was okay with the fact at least initially. doesnt matter). and that also adds to her plight of being stuck with mr.legend, and im sure she was also in love with him, but she didnt have any other choice... nobody to help her. heroes arent real

wouldve explained why olga was running and suspectible to shit freaks like mr. legend. i would be inclined to say nothing megaweird happened and gregory was just olgas weird creep boyfriend bc i dont want to torture olga for funsies. more of a situation where she got pregnant accidentally and was like fuck i cant raise a child with a total criminal freak... not that she was raped by him bc olga rly has enough bad shit in her life without that:/

gregory is a creep for sure considering even the scene where he makes ryan lose control (which is. really weird lets be real. the kotetsu scene mirrors it) but still.

AND would also explain why olga blames yuri so strongly for Everything...doesnt excuse her ofc but like. i also understand it. her life sucked. tfw women could be more than Mothers and perhaps even lead full and nuanced lives that explain their actions

this is irrelevant to my fanfic btw (kinda) though i explore yuris and olgas rlship in it. olga is someone who tries but she is so crushed by her circumstances that sometimes her best try isnt enough. its a tragedy is all.

and also interesting how gregory never showed up in sternbild before s2. like olga chose a good place to run to (in the case she had). ripping my hair out ahhh ahhh ahhhh the lore... its so deep (the lore i made up in my head that is)

[maxthesillyy]

i bet everything i own that if i push the look button max is gonna say smth quirky and funny— wait no. we cant look at anything… UNCOMMON DE WIN

nope nvm she looked at thefucking santa hat NEVERMIND. and the table sign… and. a bunch else. okay…..

still soso cuirous bout rhe polaroids

literally just watched safi tell her to pull the trigger and is still absolutely fine with her.. okay

LORETTA!!!!!!<3

OH SHIT YAY i was hoping wed get a “max fucks up timelines” moment :3

loretta y r u like rhis… freak<3

the talk to the future/past thing is so much cooler now considering

not even an animation for the “change his grade” thing??

SORRY PLANT I JUST DIDNT WANNA RISK GWEN FIGURING OUT I WAS THERE

gwen hates max in my play through so much 😭

oh straight up? nice

“whyd u do it” “IT WAS HARD AND I DONT REGRET IT”

safi…. safi im so curious

MAYA MENTION MAYA MENTION MAYA MENTION

amberprice vibes? parallels i guess?

so clearly the call was safi learning the book was cancelled

max never fucking stops 😭😭

people who want to romance gwen r projecting themselves WAY too much into maxs place,,, maybe its just me but this is like. exhausted parent and rebellious teenager 4 lack of better words

NO RECORDS OF ALDERMAN??? this is so cool

oh hey firewalk poster in gwens office

stop mentioning explosive shit ur scaring me

THE RINGING IS SO ANNOYINGGGGRGEFFEFEF

oh???????? timeline fuckery???????? i dont think shes lying she looks way too chill.

“everyone seems to have a different opinion of Maya” I AM FED UP WITH THE RACHEL PARALLELS!!!!!!!!!! WHERE IS THIS GOING 💥💥💥💥💥

“because she (safi) trusts you. and i (yasmin) trust you.” staring staring staring. something something ‘pull the trigger.’

I DONT WANNNA TALK TO VINH OH MY GO

me and all the homies (except ky) HATE VINH

AMANDA JUMPSCARE HOLY SHIT like that genuinely startled me. just seeing her stand in the corner like that LMFAO

MAYAS WAS A STUDENT?????????? I TAKE BACK EVERY AMBERPRICE STATEMENT MY BAD MY BAD

im trying so hard to care about the npc sideplotlines. would be easier if i could engage in the conversation.

STOP BEING FLIRTY I DO NOT CONSENT‼️‼️

OH! DIAMOND AND MOSES.. or just diamond?

the audios weird again

the chapters feel so much longer… but that may just be bc i dont know what to expect next unlike previous games.

oh. damn. i liked lucas,, idk whether to trust vinh but. idk.

hell yea not cashing in on the favor he owes me

safis like a force of nature when shes angry. this reminds me of no one.

ugh i guess i dont totally hate vinh

HELP MAX I WAS JUST ABOUT SAY— not another pedo teacher please 🙏

wow <3 love this photo of lucass family. definitely not a pitch black screen for some reason.

OF COURSE THATS WHERE THE FUCKING THING TO PROGRESS THE STORY WAS

OH SHIR HES A THEIF

i like that DE has more achievements other than the collectibles

SAFI TIME

these chapters are SO LONG

“safi, hey!” said too casually

dude im scared of safi now

WHATS GOING ON?! IM SCARED!!! /reference

maxs number 1 talent is pissing off pretty women

MAX PRE DE POST HELL WEEK LORE

THE CHLOE SHIT IS GONNA MAKE ME GO INSANE. WDYM U WERE ALONE FOR SO LONG. WDYM CHLOE IS PROBABLY PARTYING. WHAT DO YOU MEAN CHLOE WOULD PICK UP FOR YOU BUT IT ISNT HER JOB TO YAKE CARE OF YOU. YOURE GOING THROUGH HORRIBLE TRAUMATIC SHIR LITERALLY CALL HER

UGHGSGEGFFRGGEGGEGGRGFFAHHHHHHH

OH WAIT LETS FUCKING GO— max makes a parallel comment on lucas and jefferson i knew it was real

“heh…. thats the reaction im expecting at this point……” max shouldve been a teen on 2020 tiktok

ARO DIAMOND????? 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

i cant play this all night when does this chapter end?

so were calling polaroid max alternate max

safi vague vent posting LMFAO

max messing up timelines 😻

lowkey getting annoyed amanda’s One reaction to anything sad max says is “LOL EMO i refuse to respond seriously” it’s nitpicky

also the audio is weird again,,, WAY too loud music rn

“bitch shut ur dumb eyes!” same vibes as when someone tries to do the “be mean to friend jokingly and everyone finds it funny” way too early on in the friendship. clearly max doesnt think so tho so.

this reminds me of that one moment in the tlou dlc

this is not fun,,,,,,,,,, classic LIS dance scene tho! cant live without it

AYYYYY LETS THRASH SHAKABRAH MOMENT

ugh that wasnt fun but it was kinda cute + necessary LIS dance scene + max is happier now

PH THE BG MUSIC IS GOOD NOW?????? HOLY SHIT ITS LIKE. BTS LEVELS OF GOOD

oh yay amandas finally giving max a normal response

“why are you so nice to me?” MAX GUILT AND TRAUMA MAX GUILT AND TRAUMA

“shit,,, im doing it again” LITERALLY WHAT AMANDA. WHAT. LITERALLY WHAT.

“my therapist says i latch onto people too quickly…” SHUT UPPPPP FUCK OFF

okay sorry i officially dont like amanda. reminds me of way too many annoying people i know

“please dont vs that would be hot” 😕😕😕😕😕

when max acts cringy its okay bc its max but when AMANDA ACTS LIKE A NICE GUY ITS SO ANNOYING

I LITERALLY SAID SHE ISNR MY TYPE AND ITS A FRIEND THING STOP SHOVING HER AT ME— AT LEAST VINH IS RELATED TO THE PLOT.

“heh… i guess i just have a thing for emotionally unavailable women” FUCK OFFF I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE ALL ABOUT BOUNDARIES

“but dw you didnt feel the same way and i respect that” CLEARLY NOT???

okay the gwen is hot joke is actually kinda funny

whateva whateva idec

i wanted to like amanda so much but i CANT

oh hey trauma and guilt again 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

max was so excited to see safi too </3

MAX STOP FLIRTING WITH PEOPLE I DO NOT CONSENT /joke

“safi was obsessed with you” SAFI LORE GO ON PLEASE

anybody else waiting for More rachel mentions

stop making me not hate you vinh… this chapter has reversed me— like vinh hate amanda now

WHY ARE WE SMASHING OR PASSING STOP IT STOP IT IM TOO AROACE I DONT LIKE THIS GAME STOPPPPPPP

say safi so i can say smash

“my students are off limits” THANK GOD i was so scared they were gonna be dumb tbh

VINH BACK OFF NOW— BEAR SPRAY GO

OH FUCK OFF IM NOT KISSING HIM— NOT NOW OF ALL TIMES

“dont take this the wrong way—“ TAKE IT. TAKE IT THE WRONG WAY

please tell me were at the end please please please

YEAH I AM ROMANTICALLY DISENTANGLED THANKS FOR NOTICING— although thats. an odd achievement. but i can support an achievement that encourages you to not gaf about romance for two seconds.

SCARY TF

max canNOT get a break

close the door damn

WHAT RHE SHIT

WHATS GOING ON?!?!? IM SCARED!!!!! /ref

THEY WENT INTO THE DARK ROOM??? FUCK OFF

kitty!

OH HEY I REMEMBER— THE HOUSE BREAK INS THEY MENTIONED EVERY OTHER MINUTE

WHAT RHE FUCK WHAT RHE TUCK EHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

THATS SAFI IM CALLING IT— JK I DONT ACTUALLY KNOW? NO SHOT THATS ACTUALLY MAX?

THIS IS COOL AS FUCK DUDE

OH WAIT OR? MAYA? EITHER WAY THIS IS NOT MAX SHES ACTING WEIRD AF

NOT MAX THAT IS NOT MAX

OH MY GOD LITERALLY WHO ARE YOU

JESUS CHRISTTT

THATS WHAT??? CHLOE CALLED HER????????? SUPERMAX??????

OKAY SO. WHATEVER. WE WERE RIGHT. BUT NO NEED FOR HER TO HAVE CALLED HER SUPERMAX

WHAT RHE FUCK EVER

so!!!! that was fun!!!!!!!! ill collect my thoughts!!!!!! soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHAT I AM SO EXCITED AND DREADFUL

[oflgtfol]

honestly it’s the weirdest fucking thing because like. you’d think people would discourage me from science as a whole because i’m a girl, right? especially in my family where most of the women in my family are housewives or only work office/retail jobs without it being like A Career. but no! people have encouraged my interest in science.........

but the thing is. is that for years now, everyone has discouraged me from ASTROPHYSICS. science is fine! but not astrophysics for some reason. in 7th grade my tech teacher was like “you should be an engineer!” and my mom was like “haha no she wants to be an astrophysicist” and my tech teacher was like O_O okay and backed off, probably because like wow look at this Twelve Year Old Girl whipping out the word “astrophysicist.” like he backed off and didnt push it but he didnt seem pleased. and my mom said that like she was proud about it like haha look my 12 year old wants to be something as impressive sounding as an astrophysicist >:D

and during the college application process my counselor tried to tell me i should major in physics instead of astronomy because it ~opens up more options for careers~ and like............. sure. yes. physics is a lot more generally applied... it’d be handy if i . actually wanted to be an engineer. but honestly i dont really care about physics as a whole! i really dont. i only care about physics when it’s applied to space. and getting a physics degree would not focus on space!!!!! i’d be so unhappy. like she actively discouraged me from majoring in astronomy and my mom tried doing the same and like.. why LOL

but then like. for years. she has been casually pushing me to go into another area of science. i loved animals when i was a whole ass Child and so to this day she’s like “what happened to wanting to be a vet? i thought you loved animals” and she says it in this guilt-trippy way like implying im suddenly heartless and that i dont love animals anymore??

or she tries to make me become a doctor and she’s like YoU cOuLd CuRe CaNcEr like no.. no i wouldnt....... i’d rather fucking die than go into a biology related field because genuinely that whole area of science is so FUCKING boring i cant stand it. i wouldn’t be happy doing that for the rest of my life, and if i became an actual medical doctor with patients i know i wouldnt be good at it because i think the whole, Patients Dying would fuck me UP so badly, and also i have zero social skills i really dont want to come across as one of those unfeeling unkind doctors when compassion should be the biggest thing in that kind of field. like i would not be able to comfort anyone. and like IM SO FUCKING SQUEAMISH just the idea of MY OWN WRISTS unharmed scares me. like my own wrists, right now, completely fine, if i think about them too hard i get so skeeved out. and theyre my own wrists with no wounds!!!!!!! think about when i ACTUALLY see blood or wounds!!!

LIKE I’D BE THE WORST PERSON TO BE A DOCTOR OR VET LIKE WHAT??! yet she like GUILT trips me over it and its like........ i thought you were all impressed by me wanting to be an astrophysicist?!??!?

but its not even just her its the tech teacher and my high school counselor and like?!?!?!? what?? like whats wrong with astrophysics for real LMAO??

[jaeyunverse]

always been you (teaser)

PAIRING(S) | lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha hyung line and yeji from itzy)

GENRE(S) | fluff, crack, angst, suggestive, mutual pining, slowburn, best friends to lovers, college au, bad boy au

WARNING(S) | profanity, mentions of betting, drug dealing, illegal racing. also heeseung is a bad boy, yes, but he’s a complete softie for the reader. all warnings to be added in the full fic!

SUMMARY | heeseung was the kind of teenager everyone’s parents warned them to stay away from. he was the poster boy for the term ‘bad influence,’ caring about no one except his closest friends—especially you.

RELEASE DATE | last week of feb

TAGLIST | @jensrose @notbeforelong @geniejunn @w3bqrl @meowoni @luvrseung @tomorrowbymoa-together @freckledwinterfalls @ukiyoneo @mavlogist @jakesim-p @nomy0520 @chicksung @jkjkseo @3nh4luvr @cyuuupid @atrirose @cutiejoshi @rosieeyy @rikithebest @vixeniaz @bigtoewinwin @iuwon @laylasimp @chewnotgyu @en-boyz send an ask or comment to be added to the taglist!

CAN’T TAG | @liyaxoxooxozliya @niikimeows

AUTHOR’S NOTE | this fic is going to be reposted from my old account! now you might be thinking something along the lines of “why is she posting a teaser for a fic that was posted five months back that is literally so stupid” AND I AGREE IT IS BUT <//3 i just didn’t want to drop a 16k fic without posting a preview bc it felt rly weird sobs pls bear w me D: i’m also posting the teaser bc i think it will finally motivate me to edit the older version of the oneshot that i once claimed was my proudest work but cannot even look at right now LMFAO forgive me por favor and i hope you look forward to the return of always been you :’)

Lee Heeseung was the kind of teenager everyone’s parents warned them to stay away from.

Notoriously known all over campus for drug dealing, gang fighting, participating in illegal street races and getting involved with the local police at least once a month, he was the poster boy for the term ‘bad influence.’

No one dared to mess with him.

His gang members—though ‘brothers’ would have been a better word to explain their bond—had his back at all times. Teamwork makes the dream work, they say. Well, in this case, teamwork made everything work. Together, they had everyone in the palms of their hands.

Jay, Jake and Sunghoon were the other three people nobody ever tried to mess with. They were equally dangerous and equally unpredictable. One minute, they’d be talking to you like a civil person, and the next, they’d be beating the crap out of you.

Dealing at parties, betting on races, getting betted on during races and being modern-day mercenaries (without the killing part because they weren’t that bad) were few of the widely known methods regarding how they earned their money and reputation. Having filthy rich families was just an added bonus.

Speaking of loaded parents, all four of them shared the same sob story. That was why they had connected with each other so easily. It was the typical father-loves-his-business-empire-more-than-his-son-and-often-forgets-he-has-one-so-the-son-gets-into-trouble-to-gain-his-father’s-attention bullshit.

The strategy worked for a while, but its unoriginality reduced its effectiveness remarkably over time. All their fathers stopped giving a shit after realising the plan their children had devised, and instead of personally dealing with whatever problem had been created by their attention-seeking offsprings, they began sending in people working under them to deal with it.

Too bad the four of them had already begun enjoying what had initially started as a game.

The odds of meeting not one, not two, but three people with such similar backgrounds at the same time were close to none—Jake had calculated, to everyone’s surprise, when they were hanging out with each other one day.

Fate, Heeseung had declared immediately after. It was fate that had led them to each other. To their brothers.

Based on these widely known facts about the quartet, one would come to the conclusion that they were a tight-knit group of nineteen-year-olds who cared about no one outside of themselves.

This conclusion, however, was only partly true.

Based on a lesser-known fact, all of them—Heeseung, most of all—cared about one other person. Rumour suggested Heeseung had once said he would tear the world apart with his bare hands if this person were harmed.

The only question: who?

Why, no one other than you, of course.

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 

Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 

Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 

Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  

“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 

Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 

He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 

You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 

Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”

Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 

Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 

One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 

Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 

Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 

But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 

“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 

“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 

“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 

You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 

“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 

You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 

“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 

Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 

“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 

“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 

“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 

He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.

It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 

I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 

You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 

The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 

You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 

A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 

Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer

Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 

But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 

The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 

But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 

Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 

“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 

“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 

“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 

Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 

Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 

While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 

You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 

“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 

You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 

Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 

"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 

"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 

You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.

But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 

Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 

The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.

All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 

Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 

Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side.��

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 

But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 

Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 

Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 

You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 

The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 

The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 

Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 

“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 

Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 

His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 

You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 

“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 

“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 

“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 

Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 

“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 

Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 

A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 

Is that you? 

No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 

The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.

You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 

“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 

“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 

You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 

“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 

“Are we dating?” 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 

“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 

“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 

In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 

The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 

The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 

But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 

Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 

Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 

What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 

Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 

You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 

The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 

Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 

The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 

Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 

“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 

The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 

“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 

But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 

You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 

What? 

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 

“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 

“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 

That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.

Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 

Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 

“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  

“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 

“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 

Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 

“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 

“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 

“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 

“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 

Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 

You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 

Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”

“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 

“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 

“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 

“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 

“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 

“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 

You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 

After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 

You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 

This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  

When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 

You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 

The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 

“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 

“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”

“Jungkook.” 

Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 

Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 

“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 

Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 

You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 

“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 

Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 

“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 

“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”

“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 

Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 

You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 

Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 

And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 

So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.

The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 

Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 

“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 

You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.

“Jennie?” 

“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 

So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 

Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 

“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 

“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 

“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 

The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 

“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 

Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 

The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 

“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 

But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 

Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 

It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 

And that’s when it hits you. 

Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 

Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 

“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 

You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 

“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 

He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 

The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 

“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 

“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 

And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 

He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 

The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 

Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 

Wait, what? 

You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 

He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 

Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 

At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 

“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 

“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 

It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 

Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 

He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 

There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 

That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 

You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 

“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 

“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 

Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 

And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 

“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 

His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 

You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  

You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 

He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 

You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 

“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 

Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 

But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 

Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 

Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 

Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 

You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 

He didn’t leave. 

Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 

“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 

Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 

He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

“Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 

Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 

“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 

“Why?” 

“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 

He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 

When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 

“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 

“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 

What is wrong with you? 

“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 

“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 

Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 

But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 

“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 

“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 

“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 

“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 

With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 

“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 

“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 

The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 

He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”

Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 

Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 

“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 

“Five-hundred a week?” 

“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 

“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 

Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 

“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 

“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 

“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 

“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 

“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 

“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 

“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 

“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 

“Alright, who are your models?” 

“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 

“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 

“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m not modeling.” 

“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”

“Partners.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 

“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 

“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 

The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 

But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 

“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 

“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”

“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 

“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 

If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.

“Babe, everything alright?” 

Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 

“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 

“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 

You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 

This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 

But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 

“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 

Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 

“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 

It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 

“Jungkook, I–”

“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 

You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 

However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 

You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 

By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 

Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 

The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 

“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 

“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 

The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 

Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 

Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 

Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 

A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 

The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 

And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 

At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 

“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 

The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 

And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 

“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 

“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 

The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 

“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 

“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 

“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 

You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 

Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 

“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 

“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 

“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 

“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 

He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 

You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 

“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 

“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 

“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 

“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 

“You little–” 

Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 

If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 

“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 

“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 

“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 

The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 

Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 

He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 

“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 

You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 

Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 

“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 

“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 

You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 

Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 

“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 

“Do we have to?” 

“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 

“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 

“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 

“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 

“Why?”

“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 

You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 

“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 

You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 

“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 

“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 

“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 

Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 

“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 

You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 

“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 

“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 

You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 

“I didn’t mean you—”

“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 

“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 

You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 

There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 

Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 

Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 

“Bun, be careful!” 

The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 

“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 

Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 

His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 

You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 

You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 

The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 

“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 

Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 

“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 

“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 

“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 

“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 

He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 

“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 

You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 

“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 

A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 

The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 

It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 

At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 

It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 

This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 

“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 

The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 

“Wait—” 

You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 

You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.

Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 

“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 

Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 

Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 

Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 

Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 

Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 

You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 

“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 

“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 

The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 

And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.

“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 

Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”

“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 

You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?

The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 

“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 

Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 

“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 

“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 

So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 

You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 

But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.

A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 

“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 

It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 

“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 

“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 

“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 

“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 

At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 

Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 

No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 

And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 

“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 

“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 

“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 

So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 

“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 

Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 

The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 

Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 

Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 

“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 

Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 

You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 

“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 

He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 

“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 

When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  

These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 

“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 

“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 

Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 

“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 

You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 

There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 

“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 

You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.

“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 

“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.

“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 

You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 

Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 

Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 

Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 

But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.

You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 

When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.

You scream. 

Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 

It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 

If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 

Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 

It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 

He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 

The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 

“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 

“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 

You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 

Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 

“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.

“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”

“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 

He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 

So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 

Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 

Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 

“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 

You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 

“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 

“Things change.” 

Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 

Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.

“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 

“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 

“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 

You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 

Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 

“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”

“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”

You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 

Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 

Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 

You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 

The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 

It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 

“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 

“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—

“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 

You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 

He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 

Some time later.

“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 

The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 

You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 

“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 

“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Oui, oui.” 

“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 

“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 

He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 

So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 

Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 

[innocentlittlebunny]

Laura was ready to skewer that Donald knock-off twink at the gas station trying to make her pay for the chips and sunglasses lmao Logan you're really experiencing fatherhood at its best.

Not Laura hurting herself :(((( I feel like both Donald and Logan do have secret self-harm issues (which is true with Logan confirming that he has a special bullet to khs) so for them to find out their daughter does it too must be so heartbreaking :(((

Can't believe they're watching Shane, I just watched that a couple nights ago with my bf what a coincidence also Logan be nice to your daughter challenge NOW

The fact that the henchmen hold open the door for Donald like he's a princess omg you know he's paying them with his own holes. Donald's like don't talk to me you F class bottom to the cashier; he hella mad another twink got Logan's attention instead of him.

Logan watching himself in the comics got me so soft yes be a hero to your daughter NOW.

Lmfao Charles is frying brains in here Donald's face is so funny I can almost feel how bad it is from my migraine 😅 Donnie boy was not ready lmfao the way he stumbles out of the truck like he's been gangbanged to pieces I love it

Didn't expect Charles to be the nagging disappointed mean father to Logan who's so tired of his shit especially now that he's a dad too but it's funny to see Laura clock the tension and act like the precious grandchild who doesn't understand why grandpa is so angry with daddy. That scene with Charles scolding Logan for cursing and Logan being like oh she can't hear a few naughty words but can eviscerate people and Charles being like she can be better and Logan asking "You mean better than me?" And Charles saying "Actually, yes." Man, this family has issues to the roof.

Delicious exposed shoulders and arms sweaty sun-kissed Donal that needs to be bred up by his beastly mate ✔

Laura likes horseys aw. Why do I feel like this nice family inviting them out for dinner was a big mistake..

Laura eating like a little savage and staring at that older boy and experiencing a family dinner is so cute they deserve all the domestic bliss. Logan is such a good son to Charles I wish he could see that too. Laura is so adorable it makes me squeallllll

Also Logan being a country dad fixing pipes helping rope in horses and looking mighty fine in his tank top is 👌 the country daddy to Donald's country mommy vibes. The way he kneed that gun in half got me dripppppin you know that would make Donald wet in his panties too.

Omfg the X24 reveal I was NOT ready for JESUS THAT GOT ME FUCKED UP AYAYAYAYAY

And yeah I knew that poor family would regret inviting them over sigh...

Logan looking at X24 like ME? THAT ME? THE WHA? THE HUH?

Also HELP LAURAAAA not Charles ffs. Why isn't X24 attacking Logan tho? He's just silently fuming at him but walks past.... that's weird.

Those farmers really should have stayed in their lanes oh well kinda had it coming m8

"He only listens to you doc 🙄" um not really how about you throw your pussy in the ring Donald then he'd be at your heel constantly.

I'm sorry Charles I'd care more about you dying if you were nicer to your son Logan 🤷‍♂️

Caliban went out like a G ngl but it's so funny how Donald's days are just clumsily surviving unfortunate events that take out like everyone else around him lol

Logan going ham on X24 was oddly satisfying too even though he was getting his shit wrecked 😂

Also Logan being ready to get killed and looking disappointed when the guy ran out of shots... rest your head on Donald's chest and suck on his tits and maybe you'll calm down.

Logan's driving is a bit questionable but it's very dad-like.

Dr Rice could calm X24 down with some drugs and perhaps ordering Donald over to give him some head too to which Donald would roll his eyes at but do as he's told.

Laura taking Logan's hand as he starts crying over Charles (the closest thing he has to a father) dying got me sobbing don't you dare pull your hand away logan let your daughter comfort you NOW I can't believe he'd rather wreck their car to deal with his emotions than be comforted lmao

LAURA CAN DRIVE???? SHES 11????

Logan being gobsmacked that Laura can talk MAN SHE'S BEEN SCREAMING CRYING YELLING THIS WHOLE TIME OF COURSE SHE CAN TALK

Lmfao Laura is a menace to her poor elderly sickly father this is hilarious 😂

Since I'm sick and can't go to work I'll finally watch Logan (2017) which I know I know I should have done sooner but come on. I'm just a lil guy. Anyway I'll try to live blog it so my mutual don't get copy pasted messages about it constantly but I'm still sick af so if im not coherent... I never was so here we go.

Also thank you so much @satoria98 for sending me a link of it to watch for free love you!!!

[cloudy-leonhart]

AOT Characters with a filipino S/O!

[Author Note: I just made this out of impulse lol, I’ll make a part two with the AOT veterans- if it’s requested then I’ll make a part three with the Marley Warriors- feedback is also appreciated on all my posts :))]

[Summary: It’s just headcanons, AOT with a filipino S/O lol, that’s it. that’s the post.]

Recommended song: Sa Susunod Na Lang - Skusta Clee ft. Yuri.

Gender Neutral Reader.

Theme: Fluff, Modern AU.

TW: Swearing.

Characters: Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Marco, Connie, Sasha.

Eren Jaeger

He probably fucks up his greetings with your parents, surprisingly your dad loves him, both of them talk about basketball and boxing, whenever Many does a fight, you and him come over so Eren could watch with you dad.

This man gets bodied by your dad ALL THE TIME during basketball, it’s valid because your dad used to be a basketball player.

He eats with his hands, yes he also got that from your dad. Your mom always comes up to you, while Eren and your dad talk, she’s happy that you found someone, and that Eren reminds her a lot of your dad.

Mans swallows rice like it was no one’s business, he eats that shit with barbecue and vinegar. 

You can’t tell me he gets drunk with your dad and his friends?? They watch boxing matches and eat peanut while drinking beer.

For some reason he acts like he lives there?? Like the whole community knows about him, the kids like playing with him, the guys like doing karaoke and drinking beer with them, and the titas and lolas love talking about your relationship with him and how they would totally marry a guy like that if they ever met someone like that when they were younger.

His favourite thing about the culture? Probably how open the people were, they were very generous and kind.

Armin Arlert

When you first told him, he was kind of like, “okay??” but he also took time out of his day to research your culture, he’s the type to catch you in a sad mood where you really miss your country, and take time out of his day to try his best to make food from your culture.

He’s mastered to cook Tofu Sisig and Halo-Halo. You always ask him to make it for you whenever you’re sad.

He could never understand how your family’s able to sit in your traditional clothing, he tries his hardest not to scratch, he literally looks at you with a look begging for help because he was itchy but he didn’t want to take it off.

You had to explain that he doesn’t always have to participate in your culture, because respecting your culture was enough for you. Mans cried because he thought he was horrible for not wearing the Barong for the whole ceremony.

He does loves trying filipino recipes, he loves seeing you cook adobo or tapsilog in the morning, it just fills the house with an amazing aroma.

he knows how to say ‘i love you’ in Tagalog and he has fully replaced ‘I love you’ with ‘Mahal Kita.’ 

Favourite thing about the culture? The language, he just loves learning new words everyday, his favourite saying so far is, “Huwag kang mag-alala. Akong bahala.” (Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.)

Mikasa Ackerman

Poor baby was confused, she caught you talking on the phone in another language and she just stared concerningly at you, forgetting about whatever she’s doing.

She was also afraid to try your food?? Until you shove a ube-filled riceball (in filipino, Buchi) in her mouth, she ends up making it her comfort food, she asks you to make Buchi with her, she likes to eat the left over filling.

she actually wants to keep trying some of your culture’s food, her favourites so far is definitely Taho and Kaldereta, and of course Buchi.

She can’t say much in tagalog but she does know traditions, she did the binasuan dance with you once, amazingly she kept all cups in balance for her first time.

She knows how bless and actually calls people tita and tito, or ate and kuya. She was kind of, ahem, convinced, to call your parents nanay and tatay.

Your parents always complain about how you haven’t married Mikasa yet, Mikasa was confused about why she could hear them talking about her, but you reassured her that it was only just your parents egging you to marry Mikasa. In which she blushed in return.

Mikasa also learns recipes from Armin, those two cook for ther S/O’s so much that even their S/O feel like their not filipino enough, they got to try things even they didn’t know filipino culture had.

Jean Kirstein

SUPRISINGLY, he knows what blessing is, went as far as saying “Mano po.” whenever he did.

 your dad hates him for some reason lmfao like your dad’s always staring at him with a weird expression.

He’s scared of your dad, no cap. first time you guys went on a date and didn’t have a house together, he almost shit himself talking to your dad.

You tried to teach him to do the tinikling dance and he almost broke his leg.

You and your parents conversed by yelling at each other, like Sasha, he too thought that you were arguing with them and he tapped you on the shoulder like, “Should I leave?-” You were confused as he was, you had to explain that yelling was a way filipinos communicated.

He was concerned when you would hit him while laughing, you also had to explain that was also something most filipino’s communicated.

He tried picking the language up but he just butchers the pronunciation.

Favourite thing about your culture is the places, if he could he probably would’ve bought a private island.

Does this man know how to cook filipino food?? Yessir!! He’s absolute god at cooking, imagine when he finds out we have a whole CHEESE ice cream-

Mans was confused confused, why..would you like cheese ice cream?? surprisingly he likes the ice cream, it’s sweet and salty??

Connie Springer

THIS MAN- he thought filipino was a sexuality?? when you told him, he’s like “so, what gender do you prefer then?” 

HE WAS DUMBFOUNDED WHEN HE FOUND OUT WHAT FILIPINO MEANT-

I just know he shared filipino swears with Sasha, he actually grew accustomed to them, once in a while you’ll hear, ‘PUTANGINA’ throughout the house, because he stubbed his toe.

ugh he rocked the barong too, AND HE ROCKED HIS TINIKLING DANCE.

your titas seemed to love him?? Every time you talk to them, they ask if he’s doing okay.

He actually is a simp for filipinos, he was awestruck with how much beautiful women and men there were in the Philippines.

you cannot tell me this man doesn’t watch Manny Paqcuiao’s boxing fights.

In general he tries his best to respect your culture and not disrespect them, but he cannot bless for the life of him.

favourite thing about your culture is the adobo, he says its “bussin’”.

He drinks with your titos and your dad. No way he doesn’t, he also plays basketball with them.

traumatized somehow by the naked children running down the street sometimes- Filipino streets man, a little too comfortable-

He was shocked to find out that some people showered outside?? Like comfortably?

Man covers his whole face bc he feels like a perv.

Marco Bodt

Absolute researcher in your culture, like Armin, he actually makes sure he’s not disrespecting it or anything.

HE DOES THE BLESS GESTURE, but he whispers in your ear about how he accidentally blessed one of your titas too hard

his favourite filipino dish is Buko Pandan, he literally couldn’t help but get seconds when your grandma offered him a cup.

tbh he rocked his barong, he looked so good, like GAH DAYUM.

he picked up some words since he really loved being around your family, you were lively and your family was so open to accepting him.

you and him danced in a barong and baro’t saya for your wedding reception.

genuinely, he was in fearful awe when you caught a rat your parents have been complaining about in their house, remind you rats in the Philippines are as big as kittens 

He also calls you Mahal, it’s kinda cringey but you thought it was cute.

Favourite part of your culture, the clothing, he’s always asking to go to parties just so he can wear the barong.

he’s also deathly afraid of the bodies of water the Philippines has, he doesn’t know if murky water scares him more than clear water in the islands.

Mans tried his best to corporate your culture into your guys’ wedding, until your Tito Philip brought a WHOLE ASS LIVE CHICKEN as a wedding gift?!

he was kinda sad y’all didn’t keep the chicken.

Sasha Braus

Sasha honestly didn’t know that your were filipino until you spoke your language with a family member, you guys were yelling at each other and Sasha thought y’all were fighting-

she wants to learn the language BUT ONLY THE SWEARS, connie and her both.

she loves when you speak to her in your langauge, she loves guessing what you’re telling her. SHE ALSO LOVES WHEN UR PARENTS TRY TO SPEAK TO HER AND THEIR ACCENTS COME OUT.

you guys actually went to the Philippines for your guys’ honeymoon. did she almost spend all your money? yes, did you let her? duh.

Her most favourite thing about your culture is definitely the food, and beautiful people like you.

Genuinely rocks the Baro’t Saya, her short hair goes well with the dress, her colour was a dullish-pastel pink, she had a matching fan with it too! 

She wore it for your birthday, almost ruined it by almost spilling fruit salad on it.

THIS WOMAN- SHE WAS LITERALLY CRYING TEARS OF JOY WHEN SOMEONE BROUGHT OUT THE LECHON (a whole roasted pig).

Yes, she almost ate half of it, she would’ve probably finished it if it weren’t for her eating everything else, a human compost bin, you got leftovers? She’ll eat em.

She loved going to Jollibee with you, you and her have dates where you literally eat almost everything off the menu.

[firelxdykatara]

Your reaction to Sylki means a lot to me. Its my first ‘problematic’ ship and all these people telling me I support incest are not helping me feel less ashamed and revolted by the perverse intrusive thoughts I deal with because of mental illness... plus I think Sylki is supposed to be immoral and slightly unsettling...this is LOKI we’re talking about. Ya know, the horse fucking narcissist. The damaged supervillain...

Honestly the fact that you, who hasn’t even watched the show yet have a more reasonable reaction to selfcest (an already established Loki trope) than half the fandom really shows just how much the fans woobify Loki. He’s not some innocent baby boy that must be protected from all the darkness in the world...he’s Loki. The god who indirectly caused the apocalypse in the myths?

Plus I feel like they’re missing the whole point here? The whole show is about identity and self acceptance? It’s just wrong and surreal enough to fit the tone of the story? It’s well written and really in character? It might mean a lot to people with severe self esteem/self loathing problems...

I couldn’t care less if it’s endgame, I even don’t think it should be...but all this hate is making me so conflicted and frustrated.

Sorry if that was long...just needed someone to vent to.

Honestly, like, I have been stunned by the vitriolic reactions to sylki in this fandom lmfao. As if Loki isn't particularly infamous in comics canon for fucking a stallion and giving birth to a horse (and he also fucked a giantess and she gave birth to a fucking wolf and a huge-ass snake, Loki's family tree is something else lmfao), and yet people think it's somehow weird that he'd be attracted to and entertain the idea of a relationship with someone who is only 'him' insofar as she technically fills the Loki-shaped hole in another version of reality?

Come the fuck on lmfao.

I get that a lot of the vitriol is coming from the biphobic idea that 'if this canonically bi character, who expressed his queerness on screen in words' (no I haven't watched the show but I did watch that clip and I'm not interested in giving Disney or Marvel asspats but I will still take my rep where I can fucking get it) 'proceeds to become involved with a character the audience perceives as a woman, it's queerbaiting and he isn't Really Bi', but I also cannot express adequately with mere words how much rage that instills in me lmfao. A bi man in a relationship with a woman is every bit as bisexual as a bi man who is single or a bi man in a relationship with a man or with someone of any other gender. He is still fucking bi regardless of his relationship status. And the idea that this on-screen confirmation of his attraction to multiple genders just doesn't count unless he's making out with a dude pisses me off to no end.

Sorry for that tangent, but yeah, I absolutely agree with you. At the end of the day, Loki falling in love with 'himself' (although it seems to me like it's been fairly well established that Loki variants aren't really him in anything but name because they've all led very different lives, or at least Sylvie has, although again this is just what I've gotten from tangential fandom osmosis and scrolling through the tags a bit out of curiosity) as an act of self-love and acceptance could be a really powerful piece of storytelling, and I think the people screaming about how 'it's basically incest' don't understand a) what incest is and why it's actually harmful (and why it literally cannot apply to self-cest no matter how you twist it lmao), and b) Loki as a character.

Anyway, keep stanning Sylki--endgame or not, canon romance arc or not, it looks like they have a really rich&interesting dynamic to explore and I hope the show doesn't shy away from that just bc some people are idiots.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You always hated tagging along on boys' night.

Words: 3300

Warnings: tw//kassanovella

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: HI LOOK AT ME I GOT THIS OUT IN TIME. I did indeed test positive for COVID so this was wrought through my fatigue--and may be why there is a delay for the next chapter. We'll see!

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I am doing my best to respond to all the feedback, but I'm like... so tired LMFAO. Thank you so much for your support and engagement. It literally means the world to me and is so encouraging.

I love you. ❤️

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered. 

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return. 

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence. 

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate. 

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch. 

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen. 

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit. 

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels. 

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator. 

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said. 

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing. 

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind. 

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Your eyes widened. Master? 

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you. 

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear. 

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead. 

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly. 

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar. 

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea. 

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat. 

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel. 

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead. 

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you. 

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness. 

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault. 

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret. 

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name. 

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find. 

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there. 

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t. 

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk. 

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.” 

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

[cassianstattoo]

HAPPY ACOSF RELEASE DAY!

(ACOSF SPOILERS AHEAD) ARE YOU EXCITED?

I personally am. It’s time for Nesta’s story (and not just hers) to be told. So, this leads to another thing I think (and hope) you’ve been waiting for.

LET’S EXPLAIN THE PLAYLIST! (Read every song’s meaning while or after reading the book) And thank you for all your love and support.

“Alone” by Melancholia: It describes the Cauldron scene at the beginning of the book. In this song you can feel the rage and how hard she’s struggling. This song is not about weakness. It’s about her strength.

“Impossible” by James Arthur: Chapter 1. Even if it’s not so clear in this chapter, I think this song represents how Cassian feels when Nesta’s around. He feels worthless and not so different from the other men she beds (as he thought in ACOFAS). He lost his hope of an happy future with the woman he loves and he feels like he’s breaking that last promise she made her. Everything just seems so impossible.

“Sister” by The Black Keys: Chapter 2. This just makes me think of Feyre and Nesta’s fight. It’s from Feyre’s pov.

“New House” by Toro y Moi: “I want a brand new house Something I can not buy, something I can afford I just want a long shower I been feeling so crowded” Chapter 3. It’s about Nesta settling down in the House of Wind. It’s not the place she feels she can call “home”. First of all, it’s not really hers. The last two sentences of this verse are about her breathing and trying to calm herself at the end of the chapter. She’s just tired.

“My Mother & I” by Lucy Dacus: Chapter 4. The whole song is about Nesta and the relationship with her mother when she was a child. I think there’s nothing else to say. Also, in the 1st Chapter it says that she’s born in spring, so the song talks about a girl who was born in May. It all fits.

“Teacher’s Pet” by Melanie Martinez”: “Teacher’s pet If I’m so special, why am I secret? Yeah, why the fuck is that? Do you regret The things we shared that I’ll never forget? Well, do you? Tell me that I know I’m young, but my mind is well beyond my years I knew this wouldn’t last, but fuck you, don’t you leave me here” Chapter 5 and 6. Nesta and Cassian’s first day of training together. She basically doesn’t want to act like she’s his pet and she’s got to do whatever he want just to respect her sister’s will.

“Dangerous Man” by Valley Of Wolves: “They say I’m a wanted man Holding line and break the fire I’m setting all the captives free But I’m hanging by a wire” Chapter 7. It’s about Eris and his double-cross. That’s how probably Cassian pictures Eris in his mind tbh.

“Control” by Halsey: Chapter 8. Nesta facing the stairs. It can be linked to other chapters too because if you take this song as a whole and not just a few verses, it really contains A LOT of things. For example, the line “The House was awake”. Also Chapter 9, when people start calling their children. You can find this moment in the song when it says “All the kids cried out ‘please stop, you’re scaring me”.

“Bookstore Girl” by Charlie Burg: Chapter 9. The bookstore girl is Gwyn and Nesta tries to know more about her.

“Wrong Direction” by Hailee Steinfeld: “I don’t hate you” Chapter 12. This song is about the chapter’s ending.

“You’ve Got a Friend In Me” by Cavetown: Chapter 13. Nesta and Gwyn’s interaction. Also, Nesta helping her.

“like that” by Bea Miller: Chapter 16. Nesta and Cassian’s tension is hilarious, but this song makes me thing about this scene so much.

“Queen” by Shawn Mendes: Chapter 17. Elain fighting with Nesta. This lyrics is so powerful. The first part is Elain talking to Nesta. The second part is Nesta talking to Elain.

“You’ll Follow Me Down” by Skunk Anansie: Chapter 17. Same scene. This is totally Nesta. She’s so scared of herself and of the world that surrounds her. She’s afraid to lose her sister in this world she still knows nothing about if not violence. She wants Elain by her side, even if it means dragging her down with her.

“Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapters 18/19. I like to call it “THE chapter”. Do you need me to explain why I chose this song? Um, I don’t think so. You know it.

“Only You” by Ellie Goulding: “Baby I’m on my knees” Chapter 22. He’s... returning the favor.

“Revolution” by Diplo, Faustix, Imanos, Kai: Chapter 24. Our girl Nesta knows what she’s doing. What she’s starting.

“Best Friend for Hire” by Anthony Amorim: Chapter 25. The whole song is about Nesta and Emerie’s interaction. Everytime I listen to it I can’t help but cry.

“Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)” by Hozier: Chapter 26.  Nesta’s worried about Cassian and gives him relief.

“Rise Up” by Andra Day: Chapters 27/28. These three girls are going to rise up, bitches.

“Nina Cried Power” by Hozier, Mavie Staples: Chapter 29. This song is really powerful, just like Nesta. She always is, but in this chapter we learn HOW MUCH.

“Fix Me Now” by Garbage: “Bring me back to life (fix me now) Kiss me blind” Chapter 31. THAT scene. HE HEATED UP THE WHOLE ROOM Y’ALL. Cassian literally kissed her back to life.

“Ready or Not” by Fugees: Chapters 34/35/36. I can’t choose only one quote from this song. But can you hear its vibes? Nesta’s leading a dead army. This is THE power. 

“PILLOWTALK” by ZAYN: Chapter 37. *wink* This song says everything.

“Go Fuck Yourself” by Two Feet: Always chapter 37. I couldn’t choose just one song, you know. Also, lowkey Chapter 38.

“Never Again” by Breaking Benjamin: “Never again, never again Time will ot take the life from me” Chapter 38′s ending. All I can say is: NEVER AGAIN.

“Boy In The Bubble” by Alec Benjamin: Not linked to just one chapter. It makes me thing of Azriel a lot.

“Past Lives” by BØRNS: “I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around Past lives couldn't ever come between us Some time the dreamers finally wake up Don't wake me I'm not dreaming“ Chapter 39. Gwyn and Azriel. Well, these lines are about them, but I think the rest of the song represents Elain and Azriel, too. I don’t know if you feel the same.

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day: THIS IS AZRIEL’S SONG. YOU CAN’T TELL ME OTHERWISE.

“Watch Me While I Bloom” by Hayley Williams: Chapter 41. Nesta teaching Cassian how to treat a woman. She’s got big dick energy ayeee

“R U Mine?” by Arctic Monkeys: Still chapter 41. Cassian taking control of the situation. This song just screams “dominant” lmao.

“Walls Could Talk” by Halsey: So Halsey once said “The House was awake” (Control). What if those Walls Could Talk? Like, poor thing. It could have a mental breakdown. This song is dedicated to the House of Wind ‘cause it needs respect. It’s alive. Just imagine how’d you feel watching non-stop those two fucking and fighting. Also Azriel, you’re loved.

“Despicable” by grandson: “If I were you I wouldn’t love me neither” Chapter 43. Tamlin deserves a song, too.

“Part Of Me” by Katy Perry: Chapters 45/46. It’s all SO chaotic. This song means a lot of things. They all lied to her, but this song is particularly about Nesta and Amren’s fight. In my opinion, she did the right think telling Feyre the truth ‘cause she deserved to know, but it just wasn’t the right time and space.

“Don’t Give Up On Me” by Andy Grammer: Chapter 47. Cassian’s going to take care of Nesta. She made a mistake but she knows here better than anyone. He won’t give up on her.

“There You Are” by ZAYN: Chapter 50. Cassian comforts Nesta when she finally explodes. He’s there for her with open arms.

“You Found Me” by The Fray: Still Chapter 50. This chapter was so hard to read and this is another song that can describe it best.

“Locked Out Of Heaven” by Bruno Mars: Chapter 51. Illyrian bat boys just love flat objects. I see.

“Thin White Lies” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 51. Yeah, still thinking about that desk.

“Chosen Family” by Rina Sawayama: Still Chapter 51. This song is wholly dedicated to Nesta’s new found family. Not only Gwyn and Emerie, but also Cassian.

“Library Magic” by The Head And The Heart: Chapter 52. Listen to this song and read the scene at the beginning of the chapter.

“Battle Cry” by Imagine Dragons: Chapter 54. I know it’s weird but I feel this song talks about Lanthys and Nesta’s fight.

“Hurt” by Christina Aguilera: Chapter 55. Nesta takes Cassian to the place she lived with her family in the mortal lands. It’s dirty and broken now but it’s still there. Nes talks about her father and realizes how much he’s done for her and her sisters.

“Story Of Another Us” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 56. I know this sounds like a sad song but to me it represents Gwyn’s present. The story of their past (of another “them”) and also their present.

“Drama Club” by Melanie Martinez: Chapter 57. Eris vibes, y’all. I know you can feel them. Everytime I listen to this song I can’t help but thinking of him. So the only thing I can tell you is: listen carefully.

“Genius” by Sia, Diplo, Labrinth: Chapter 57. Hear this song. It just makes me think of a ballroom where two people try to talk to other people and they’re avoiding to make eye contact. And they fail (yeah, those people are Cassian and Nesta btw)

“Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish: Chapter 57. Still about Eris, but also Cassian. They can’t stand each other. So imagine the astronomical energy (inside of this bus lmfao) when Nesta comes in between.

“All About Us” by He Is We, Owl City: Chapter 57. Nessian dancing.

“Rock Bottom” by Hailee Steinfeld ft. DNCE: Chapter 58. This song is SO accurate. This is the moment I realized “That’s it. I think I can die happy now” and then I started crying. Nesta just thinking she’s not enough and she deserves to be with someone as ugly as she thinks she is. Cassian is like “shut the hell up, woman” and yeah. That’s the kind of energy and conversation I was waiting for.

“Stop Crying Your Heart Out” by Oasis: Chapter 58. Their life becomes brighter. They have to stop crying their heart out because of their fears and the emotions they keep trying to hide. They need to feel free and express all the love they can give to each other.

“Fade Into You” by Nashville Cast, Sam Palladio, Clare Bowen: Chapter 58. Finally the truth comes out and everything becomes real. Even if the song is pretty sad, the lyrics is just SO accurate and it describes the scene perfectly.

“I Miss You” by Adele: Chapter 59. Basically Nesta feeling needy ‘cause she doesn’t see Cassian for days, but it’s more than that. Pay attention to the depth of the song. It shakes you. And that’s what Nesta feels when she thinks of Nesta.

“Beautiful” by Christina Aguilera: Chapter 59/61. I want to dedicate it to my favorite girls in this book: Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. They’ve been through a lot but they also learnt to face their fears. And they realized that unity is strength.

“Smile” by Uncle Kracker: Chapter 62. Cassian’s sooo happy to be with Nesta it breaks my heart. And his own too.

“Broken Pieces” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 62. Aaand here we go again. Cassian just wants Nesta to give him the chance to be happy with her.

“Carried Away” by H.E.R.: Chapter 62. Nesta thinks they got too carried away and now they’re at a point of no return. She opened herself to him too much. It’s not like she regrets this but she understands that now everything’s too real and changing. She doesn’t feel ready.

"What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes: Ending of Chapter 63. Okay, I’ll make you laugh but this is me after reading it. I needed to put a song about how I felt when I read this freaking ending, after all the devastation Chapter 62 brought into my heart. And the fact that Nesta’s 25 and the first line begins with “25 years”... I DIED. Also I think of her just screaming to the word “WHAT’S GOING ON?!”.

“Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves” by Eurythmics ft. Aretha Franklin: Chapters 64/65/66. DO I NEED TO DESCRIBE IT? NAH, I DON’T THINK SO. THESE GIRLS ARE POWERFUL, STRONG AND SMART AS HELL.

“Run The World (Girls)” by Beyoncé Chapters 67/68/69/70. The girls want to win and they’re going to conquer everything with no mercy.

“Puppets” by Depeche Mode: Chapter 71. Eris impotence t is heartbreaking.

“Warriors” by Imagine Dragons: This song is for every character. It’s about Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn, but also Cassian, Azriel and Eris. They’re fighting different battles and they’re doing it with every ounce of power they have.

“Emperor’s New Clothes” by Panic! At The Disco: Chapter 74. Nesta kicking Briallyn’s ass.

“Survivor” by Destiny’s Child: This song is dedicated to Emerie and Gwyn. They spent all their lives learning how to survive. At the end, they finally won.

“Set Fire to the Rain” by Adele: THE Nessian Anthem. I put this here ‘cause FINALLY they’re endgame. But something bad’s about to happen...

“Cancer” by My Chemical Romance: Chapter 76. This chapter’s been the hardest one to face. I had to put the book down for a minute and breathe. I know this song made you panic and ow you know why I chose it. I can’t stop crying thinking about Feyre in those conditions and all the IC and her sisters surrounding her. I’m still so heartbroken.

“You Saved Me” by Skunk Anansie: Chapter 77. Nesta cares about Feyre. She’s her little sister and she just can’t let her die like that. She gave her a happy ending even if Nes had to lose almost every ounce of power she had and learned to accept. But they’re worthless in comparison with her sisters life. She just loves them both. She’d do anything for them and this scene proves it.

“Lean on Me” by Bill Withers: This song is about friendship and sisterhood. Nesta’s relationship with Gwyn and Emerie, but also with Feyre and Elain (and lowkey Rhys). Also, I dedicate it to little Nyx, too. They all love you, babyboy, and would do anything for you. Welcome to this chaotic world, kid!

“Sorry” by Halsey: Chapter 78. These are not explicit apologies. Nesta doesn’t need to say “sorry” vocally. She already demonstrated it. Her actions speak louder than words and her sister know it. This song is not about a “romantic lover” but a “person who loves” and they all love too much and strongly.

“Amazing” by Aerosmith: WE FINALLY SEE THE LIGHT. This is the happy ending they deserve (but the cliffhanger is killing me tbh). It’s about everyone in this book. I put it in the playlist ‘cause at first I thought it could refer to Azriel and Cassian. But the more i listened to it, the more I realized it just describes every single character.

“The Reason” by Hoobastank↓

“this is me trying” by Taylor Swift: Both the songs refer to Chapter 80. Nesta visiting her father’s grave is one of the first steps to finally go on. The songs represent what she really wants to tell her father. He’s the reason to start over. And she’s trying. Even if she made mistakes she’s ready to fight for the happiness and love she denied herself years and now she knows she deserves it.